


The high king that used to be a princess

by fandomearth



Series: Russingon fics [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: LGBT, LGBT Tolkien, M/M, Transgender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomearth/pseuds/fandomearth
Summary: High King Fingon did not always know he was male for much of his life. As a matter of fact, everyone else around him used to think otherwise until his beloved Maedhros managed to get the truth out of him.





	The high king that used to be a princess

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually my way of coming out as a gay trans man to my AO3. My Tumblr (fandomearth) is already pretty relentlessly gay and trans, so I thought my AO3 could use it as well. 
> 
> Not sure if this is going to stay as a one-shot or going to become a long-time running fic. Either way, here it comes.

Nolofinwë’s eldest paced anxiously in circles as the words that had been uttered by his father only troubled him furthermore. _Turukano is my eldest male heir, Anairë. He may very well be a child as you speak, but he should behave as the heir of a prince of the Noldor would. Is that not what elder sons are for?_

Findekáno flinched at the remembrance of the words, and tears ran across his face. He then saw that he was no longer being able to conceal the distress that being called his father’s daughter brought him. He could no longer contain the pain that being thought of as a lady, as the eldest princess of the Noldor brought him, when in fact he was none of those things. When, in fact, he happened not to be a princess, but a prince instead.

He stared at the image of himself reflected in his silver mirror, as the words that hurt him so echoed through his ears. _Nolofinwë’s daughter is a beauty indeed… she is truly in the likeness of Lady Varda!_ Those compliments had always bothered him, and yet it was only until recently that he began to comprehend why. Never before had he been thought of as male until that day, when, after stumbling upon his path on accident, Lord Irmo had addressed him as a ‘Nolofinwë’s son.’

And now Findekáno was terrified to find himself so utterly happy to be read as male, even if it had probably been just a mistake by the lord of dreams. After all, the kindred of the Eldar were known for their somewhat androgynous appearance, and it was possible that, Findekáno, having not worn an utterly feminine garment that day, would have been mistaken for a male.

But the vala’s mistake, however well-intentioned it may have been, had raised many questions within him, questions for which he did not have the answers for. After all, was it possible for him to be truly male despite his appearance, despite the fact that he had been born and raised as a female? And if he, in fact, happened to be so, was this even possible for the kindred of the Eldar? The Valar had never stated that any elf had ever been assigned the wrong gender at birth, and thus, how could he be the only exception?

He took another stare at his appearance once more, and for once, all of his insecurities and self hatred began to make sense. His uncomfortableness with his body, the fact that even while performing femininity as his mother had instructed him to do, he had never been truly comfortable with himself… all of those fragments of his confusing and now remote life seemed to make sense. And so the eldest son of Nolofinwë broke down in tears.

His weeping was halted by a soft knock in the door, followed by the voice of his favorite cousin. —“Fin?”

Findekáno turned a bright red at his cousin’s entrance, surprised yet glad to hear the use of the pet name Nelyafinwë employed for him.—“You always call me that instead of Findewen. Why is it so?”— He inquired out of curiosity. Could it be that Russandol, his dearest friend and cousin for whom he held a certain infatuation towards, know of the deepest secret that consumed him?

Nelyafinwë shrugged. “You do not appear to be very fond of your given name. As a matter of fact, it almost seems as if you have a strong dislike for it.”—Yet Findekáno’s tears must have not went unnoticed, as his cousin’s expression turned to one of concern.—”You seem unwell. What is it?”

At first Findekáno attempted to dissuade him from perceiving his gloomy unhappiness, shaking his long hair in denial.—”It is nothing. Nothing that should concern you, or anyone for that matter. Just foolish thoughts, that is all.”

“Or perhaps they are not so foolish after all.”—Nelyafinwë then kept insisting, eager to know his thoughts, as if he did not know his heart so well already.—”You have changed ever since you stumbled upon Lorien that day. Did something happen there?”

Findekáno then stared deeply into his cousin’s grey eyes, unsure of whether he could reveal this secret of his to one of the persons he esteemed the most. Ever since he had been a child, Nelyafinwë had been ever at his side, unlike any of his brothers, who often chose to dismiss him due to the fact that they incorrectly thought him to be female. If there was someone to which Findekáno could reveal his most intimate thoughts, surely it had to be him. But then horror seized him at the prospect that perhaps his beloved cousin might not be so accepting of his gender. After all, none in the Eldar had been known to be alike him, and Findekáno knew very well how unkind his Uncle Fëanaro could be at times when it came to such things, especially when it were the children of his most hated sibling that were involved. Yet could he truly keep concealing his true self, his true identity to one whom he adored above all things, to his friend, cousin, and mentor? This he knew he could no longer do.

And so at last Findekáno dared to speak his mind, although still fearing the backlash his words might provoke. “There is a secret I have been keeping from you for some time—well, from everyone to be exact. But I do not know how to express it, nor what your response might be. In truth,I do not know if anyone has ever felt this.”

He then turned his face in the other direction, not wishing to contemplate the confusion or perhaps even disgust that would fill his cousin’s eyes at his revelation.—”I do not feel as if I were a lady, or a female—as a matter of fact I am most certain that I have never been one. Perhaps I did not always know this until now, but it is how I feel. I believe I was meant to be born as male, even if it was not so.

A dense silence filled the atmosphere, and Findekáno then proceeded to blab in the midst of tears, for he could feel Nelyafinwë’s gaze upon him.—”You were right, cousin, in saying that I am indeed not fond of my name… I know… I know that in the eyes of our people I may be but the daughter of my father..”

“Fin..”—He then heard Nelyafinwë speak gently, but Findekáno proceeded nevertheless.

“I do not know how our family might respond. Alas, I do not even know if anyone has ever experienced such feelings! I know that I am no one to go against the will of the Valar, but I do not believe I can endure this life anymore. Not as a female. Not as Findewen. Not as everyone knows me.”—He kept on, speaking through a series of sobs.—”I know not everyone understands. I also know only but a few may be able to do so. Perhaps not even you can understand but…”

Findekáno hid himself through his long curtains of obsidian-colored hair, hot streams of tears running across his face. He dared not take a look at his cousin, afraid to find the eyes of the one he cherished so to be full with disgust, or even worse, pity.

He expected Nelyafinwë to reprehend him, to stare at him oddly or to tell him that this was all but a misleading fragment of his imagination, yet Nelyo did none of these things. Instead, Findekáno felt his warm hand around his shoulder.—”Fin, you do know that I was not born a male either, right?”

Findekáno’s eyes opened widely, as he raised his stare from the floor.—”You… you are like me? But how…?”—Findekáno mumbled, puzzled at the notion that his cousin might not be so unlike himself. Ever since he had memory, his cousin had been treated as male by everyone around him, without hesitation or complaints. Never had his cousin once been addressed as a female, nor had he ever dressed accordingly to the standards of Noldorin femininity. In truth, there was not a single trace from what Findekáno knew of his eldest cousin’s past that indicated so.

“I knew I was male ever since I was a young child. I must have been thirty or forty years old when I finally mustered the courage to tell my parents. You were not yet born I believe. My parents, well… my mother took it as well as she could, but for my father it was different. He has never been very accepting of such things, you see. For a very long time he insisted that I adhere to presenting and living as a female until grandfather intervened, when he reminded him of the truth about my grandmother. Ever since he has become more accepting. My brothers… well, they never really treated me as a female to begin with.”

“The truth about your grandmother?”—Findekáno inquired, baffled at the perspective that perhaps he and Nelyo were not the only of the Eldar alike themselves.—”You mean that Míriel Serindë was… like us?”

“Transgender, yes. She was beloved so dearly by the Valar that Lady Estë helped her bear a child in accordance to Lord Irmo’s request. But it was not entirely successful.”—His cousin’s tone then grew grave.—”And so my father was born a healthy child, but my grandmother’s body was not able to withstand the entire procedure. The pain it inflicted upon her was too great, and so her fea departed. Perhaps that is why he was so reluctant to me being alike her, being transgender. But over time my grandfather has made brought him to understand that this is who I am, and that he cannot change it.”

Findekáno stared at his cousin once more, taking a look at his long, blazing red hair and handsome demeanor. Could it be that he himself could aspire to appear like him?—”’But how did you… how is it that you look so masculine?”

“I had a bit of aid from Lady Estë of course, just as my grandmother did. Why, did you really think you were the only one?”—He then asked him, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“I—I never knew others felt this way. Is it normal, then? To feel this way?”—He inquired.

Nelyafinwë smiled tenderly, stroking his hand firmly as Findekáno’s heartbeat only grew faster.—’Of course it is normal, Fin. Which reminds me,”—he interrupted himself, changing the course of the conversation—”what should your chosen name be? Findewen has never truly suited you, for you are no maiden after all.”  


“I like the name Findekáno, actually.”—He gulped in relief.—”But I do not think my parents will use it, or anyone in our family for that matter.”

“My Uncle Nolofinwë has shown himself to be quite reasonable about this matter, actually. Once I revealed my gender to the rest of our family, almost all of them complied immediately. Why would they not behave the same way towards you?”—Nelyafinwë then argued.

“Because… oh for Eru’s sake, Nelyo! I am not nearly as masculine as you are, and I am afraid I shall never be so. My clothes, my body, my hair… no one shall ever think otherwise of me. Is it not pointless after all, to struggle in a battle that you cannot win? No one will ever see me as anything other than a female.”—Findekáno then pointed out gloomily, and tears began to form in his eyes once more

“But I do, actually. I see you as a male. You have always been male, Findekáno. And with time, I am sure our family will as well.”—His cousin then assured him, placing a caring hand around his shoulder.

“You are different. You are like me. And besides, how can I truly be certain that this is who I am? Males are not supposed to be… like this. I like being feminine, Nelyo. I am not like you in that fashion. But it appears that being feminine makes me a maiden, or is it not so?”

“You are mistaken.”—Nelyafinwë snapped him out of it, and obliged Findekáno to stare into his eyes as he turned his face towards his.—“Male, female, perhaps neither… it matters not how you dress, or how feminine you may appear. Did you not tell me that you could no longer bear to live as a female?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“...And did you not tell me that you rather feel more male instead, that you identify as such?”—Nelyafinwë then inquired of him.

“Yes, but…”—Findekáno attempted to object once more, but once again he was interrupted by his cousin.

“Then rest assured, cousin, that you are as male as I am.”—Nelyafinwë thus concluded, and Findekáno then knew that he would not let him have another say in the subject.

“I also do not happen to fancy the ladies very much.”—Findekáno then blurted out, expecting this last sudden revelation to be the one that shattered the faith Nelyafinwë seemed to have in his gender.

Nelyafinwë, however, did not even bat an eye.—”Neither do I for that matter. But after all, since when is fancying a certain gender a requirement to be the other? Are you done trying to deny yourself of your recently found gender, or shall I need to reassure you furthermore?”

“I suppose you are right.”—Findekáno acknowledged with a sigh.—”It is just that… I am terrified. Terrified of being different. Terrified of what the other might think, or might say.”

“So was I. But you shall get used to it too well, I assure you. And besides, believe me when I say a slight wardrobe and hairstyle changes can do wonders.”—His cousin then stated.

Findekáno looked at his reflection again, this time even more disheartened by what he saw. How could he ever strive to be alike Nelyafinwë, who had spent years living as male with the blessings of the Valar?—”I am certain I shall never be as handsome as you.”

“You would be surprised. I have a change in mind, actually.”—His cousin then informed him, which made his heart race even faster.

“Is that so?”—He asked shakily.

Nelyafinwë assented.—”When I first disclosed my true gender as a child, my mother insisted on plaiting my hair. She said it would make me feel more masculine, and alas was she right.”

Findekáno snorted at the thought of braiding and plaiting the mess that was his long, messy floof of hair.—“I dare you to try. I have never even been able to comb this thing properly.”

“Challenge accepted.”—Nelyafinwë then said, and eagerly put his hands to work. The long hands of his cousin contrasted against the darkness of his hair as Nelyafinwë brushed it gently. Then he searched for something in the pockets of his robes.

“I think I have quite what I was looking for.”—He mused, and then Findekáno saw that he was pulling a thread of gold to braid around his plaits.—”It goes well with your dark skin tone.”

He then invited Findekáno to stand next to him against the mirror once his work was done, leaving him astonished. He had always hated the texture and length of his hair, perhaps because of how feminine it appeared in his eyes, but after the plaiting, the volume was down to a a level he could considerably deem himself masculine, fitting for his gender.

“I love it. Thank you.”—He whispered softly, touched so deeply by the fact that the one person he adored so much was thoughtful enough to share a part of himself with him, even if it probably meant nothing about the way Nelyafinwë felt towards him.

“And you look very handsome in it as well.”—Nelyafinwë said with a flashing smile, but then his thoughts appeared to turn to other matters.—”And we still ought to take you to Atarinkë so he can make you a binder alike mine, and perhaps something else if you would like… but that can come later, once my uncle is aware perhaps.”

Findekáno blushed, so overwhelmed with infatuation that his mind could not think straight.—”Do you truly actually believe I could be considered handsome someday?”—He questioned him at last, unsure of what else to say.

“I think you already are.”—Nelyafinwë replied, and then his face moved closer to Findekáno’s, his lips touching his ever so gently.

Findekáno kissed him back, not entirely sure that this was not a dream that he was experiencing. “You feel the same way?”—At last Findekáno asked him softly, their lips having departed from each other.

“I have felt this way ever since I thought you might be like me, actually. As Nolofinwë’s daughter I only saw but a friend in you, but now that the truth has come forward I must admit that, yes, I do. I did ever since Lord Irmo told me you were male.”—Nelyafinwë then confessed.

“Lord Irmo told you? How does he know of these things?”—Findekáno marveled.

Nelyafinwë shrugged. “I suppose he just does. He was the one that pointed out to me that I was transgender in the first place, and he is actually partially the reason why I am here. Recently he sent me to look out for you, to guide you as he guided me.”

“And the other reason is?”—Findekáno asked.

“The other reason is that I am in love with you, of course.”—He then admitted coyly.

It was now Findekáno’s turn to reveal the truth. “So am I. I think I have been infatuated with you ever since I was a child.”

“I am flattered that you’ve thought of me with such high regards.”—Nelyafinwë then said, and their lips met once more as the eldest cousin locked the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Lord Irmo is the patron Vala for all trans people in middle earth. He just is, and his wife Este is there to help all the trans/nonbinary elves transition if they want to.


End file.
